


Last-Ditch Effort

by humorless_hexagon



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, As you do, First Kiss, M/M, in shady alleyways, kissing strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humorless_hexagon/pseuds/humorless_hexagon
Summary: Peter Nureyev doesn't make it a habit to kiss strangers, especially not ones who are as well-armed as they are roguishly handsome and distrustful as they are well-armed.But what's the old saying... desperate times call for desperate measures?





	Last-Ditch Effort

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "Person A is running from the police and blends into their surroundings by kissing a poor bystander (Person B)"

Peter Nureyev doesn't make it a habit to kiss strangers, especially not ones who are as well-armed as they are roguishly handsome and distrustful as they are well-armed.

 

But what's the old saying... desperate times call for desperate measures?

 

Well, this definitely was a desperate time, with the howl of police sirens growing louder by the second. The crescendoing thud of military-grade boots echoes Nureyev's own traitorously rapid heartbeat. He is not _panicking_ \- it’s just the adrenaline. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he runs through the side streets of Hyperion City.

  
Nureyev slips into a convenient alley, planning to take a breather for just a minute. But, lost in all of his thoughts, he somehow misses seeing the person turning the corner, and runs into them head on. They’re nearly knocked onto the floor as Nureyev steps back.

 

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to look both ways before running into shady alleyways?" Nureyev’s human barrier asks acidicly, rubbing his forehead in what seems to be an attempt to will away the pain from the impact. His comment almost goes unheard underneath the heavy pants of Nureyev’s breath, but there’s something that catches the thief’s attention. It makes him stop and stare.

 

In an instant, Peter is able to sum up the person in front of him. Even through the washed-out, hazy orange of the streetlight, Nureyev can make out the dark circles under his eyes and a faint scar across the bridge of his nose. He has a handsome face, more or less; but it was the type of handsome that was easily hidden behind a resting grimace and forgotten as soon as one opened their mouth. Nureyev's stranger is carrying a weapon of some sort, probably several. Even though it's concealed, the stranger's fingers hover over his waist, ready to draw.

 

He's just Peter's type.

 

For some reason, Nureyev stops fleeing. Going against every instinct screaming at him to keep going, he pauses and smiles at the stranger. Nureyev puts an idea in action before he has time to assess whether or not it’s actually a good one.

 

"Now, this may come as an odd request considering I just bumped in to you," he starts cautiously, all too aware of the sounds of the HCPD growing nearer and nearer. "But, would you mind pinning me to a wall and kissing me right now?"

 

The stranger suspiciously eyes Nureyev, then Nureyev's messenger bag, which is heavy with the priceless artifact he stole from the Museum of Colonized History.

 

"What's in there?" the stupidly attractive person asks. His hand remains twitching over his belt. "Something _they_ want?" He gestures outside the alley where indistinct red and blue lights are beginning to flash.

 

"I haven't the faintest idea what you could be referring to," Nureyev lies. The stranger squints, sizing the thief up as he had done a second earlier. After his inspection, the stranger looks unconvinced and takes a heavy step forward. His hand doesn't leave his side. Nureyev can see the glint of a dagger underneath his trench-coat.

 

Well, getting stabbed by a vigilante in an abandoned alley wasn't the most _romantic_ of deaths, but there were worse ways to go- at the hands of the police, for example.

 

But instead of lunging forward and burying a knife in Nureyev's chest, the person shoves him back against the wall, into the shadows. The scream of sirens grows louder as the handsome-but-not face fills Nureyev's vision. And, painfully slow, Nureyev's stranger closes the distance between them, eyes drifting closed at the last moment.

 

It’s not a terrible kiss, per say. The dagger-wielding alley-loiterer isn’t amazing with his mouth, but he’s not Peter’s worse. There’s too much teeth and too little finesse. Even so, Nureyev can’t complain about the hand fisted in his hair just tight enough and the rough, almost painful press of the brick wall against his back.

 

The stranger drags his hand down through Nureyev’s hair to rest on his cheek. It feels far too intimate for a kiss with a stranger in the back of an alley, so he almost breaks away. But he can hear the voices of the officers now. Nureyev’s eyes instinctively flutter open for a moment, surprisingly finding the other person’s open as well. The stranger raises his eyebrows, effectively communicating his acceptance of his collusion with Peter. 

 

He can pick out words the police are saying now: “thief,” “escape,” “impossible.” The irony of their close proximity causes Nureyev’s heart to thump so loud he fears they may hear. But, even if they peered through the shadows of the alley, his face is shielded from them, thanks to the stranger's hand on his cheek. Nureyev breaks the kiss for a moment to breathe, looking down at the man. His eyes gleam cat-like in streetlight.

 

“They’re not all gone yet,” the stranger whispers, voice huskier than before. 

 

Nureyev smirks, fully aware the police are just far enough away for him to make an escape. “Guess we’ll have to keep up the act then.” 

 

The stranger pushes his lips against Peter’s again, more confident this time. Their lips slot together more evenly and Peter is able to enjoy the kiss more and more as the sirens and confused shouts of the HCPD grow distant. The nebulous air is well-cleared of the sounds of the police by the time Nureyev and his stranger break away again. Both a bit shocked, they stare dumbfounded at each other the best they can in the dim light. The ambient sounds of Hyperion City surround them in a way that feels like safety to Peter.

 

"Thank you very much..." Nureyev raises his eyebrows to convey his question: _Name?_

 

"Juno Steel,” the stranger replies curtly. Nureyev recognizes the name from somewhere, but he can’t quite place it. “And you are?"

 

"Just another face in the universe." Nureyev smiles and palms at his stolen treasure through his shoulder bag. Confirming that it’s still there makes his whole situation feel a bit lighter, less like he had just narrowly escaped getting thrown in jail and more like he had just won a particularly grueling game of hide-and-seek.

 

However, Nureyev’s answer doesn't impress Juno and he narrows his eyes again. "Y'know I'm already kind of regretting it," he admits after a moment.

 

"Helping me lose the police or the kiss?"

 

Juno raises his eyebrows but still seems apathetic. "Weren't they the same thing?"

 

"They don't have to be." It’s just a suggestion. A coy suggestion that Peter knows he shouldn’t make, but he can’t help himself sometimes.

 

Juno gives Nureyev a sly smile with too many teeth. It makes his stomach do something funny. Leftover nerves from the heist, probably. Adrenaline.

 

“What’s in the bag?”

 

Nureyev crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. Dramatic, light, free from any suggestion as it should be. “Oh phooey, that’s no fun.”

 

Juno raises his eyebrows, mimicking Nureyev’s beseechment.

 

“If you must know, it’s the last known religious text of Jupiter’s old moon cultists, which I stole because I was paid a large amount of money by the leaders of the only surviving sect to return this artifact to their temple on Lysithea. Does that explanation satisfy you, Mr. Steel?”

 

As soon as he finishes his sentence, Peter remembers why he knows the name Juno Steel. He was a private investigator. Nureyev had passed his office a few times when scoping out the city earlier in the week, and had witnessed on an occasion or two, a young woman shouting goodbye to a “Mistah Steel.”

 

Said “Mistah Steel” peers up at Nureyev with hard, curious eyes. “You’ve got a kinda backwards way of doing things Mr. ‘Face in the Universe.’”

 

“Maybe so,” Nureyev shrugs. He doesn’t care too much for morals or being a law-abiding citizen. Being a Master Thief allows one to forgo such things.

 

“So… what’s next?” Juno makes a show of slumping his shoulders and putting his hands in his pockets.

 

“Well, I have to catch my ride off of this planet and you have to… I don’t know…” Nureyev looks Juno up and down, admiring his slightly disheveled, roguish charm. “Do whatever it is Juno Steel does? Besides kissing handsome strangers, of course.”

 

“I-I don’t kiss handsome strangers!” Juno sputters indignantly.

 

Nureyev starts to walk away, coolly resting his hands on his messenger bag. He looks back to wink at Juno, who stands looking dumbfounded underneath the street lamp. “Looks like we have something in common, then.” He just catches Juno’s slight smile before turning his head back to the street in front of him and raising his hand in a sincere wave. “Farewell, Juno,” he calls out.

  
_Until next time_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to leave kudos and comments! I'm always happy to take prompts, just leave them in my ask box => http://sarcasticskeptic.tumblr.com/


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